


Control

by ceasefire



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Mind Control, Obedience, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceasefire/pseuds/ceasefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Virus and Trip hurt him, but they couldn't break him. When they let down their guard, Aoba takes the one chance he has to gain control and make them feel the pain of what he went through at their hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the obedience square on my kink_bingo card. Based off the Virus and Trip bad ending; please heed the warnings. Also, written before Re:Connect came out, so it's kinda been jossed... haha oops.

_"Stop."_

Virus's and Trip's hands drop away from him in an instant, and Aoba barely allows himself to believe it. They'd been getting careless with him lately -- probably thinking they'd finally broken him for good -- but he never imagined that he would get this far. A chill ran down his spine, a sick feeling of hope and relief that he thought he'd never feel. He can remember the tiny flash of surprise in Virus's eyes before he spoke, and realises he'll probably remember it for the rest of his life.

He backs away from them first. He doesn't want to be anywhere near them, doesn't even want to risk accidentally brushing against them of his own accord. He can still feel their hands all over him, and Trip's come is still running down the inside of his thigh and pooling on the sheets beneath him. Aoba licks his cracked lips, takes a deep breath and speaks again.

_"Kneel."_

Virus and Trip do as they're told immediately and without a single word spoken. Aoba can feel himself shaking now. His breath is coming in shaky pants, and he's smiling for the first time in what feels like years. It makes his cheeks ache. 

Aoba tries to stand up, but he's shaking so hard that his legs give out beneath him and he falls back onto the bed. He feels like crying until he notices that Virus and Trip are still watching him. His face burns with shame.

"Stop looking at me!"

They turn away so quickly that Aoba hears a bone in one of their necks crack. Aoba swallows and suddenly feels like laughing rather than crying. He hasn't felt this sort of freedom for a long time, and it takes him a moment to realise that he doesn't know exactly how long he's been with them.

"Virus."

"Yes, Aoba-san?"

Aoba almost jumps out of his skin; it's the first time either of them has made a sound since he took control, but he can tell he hasn't lost his grip on their minds. 

"... tell me how long you've kept me here."

"Almost eighteen months now." 

Virus speaks with the same smile on his face that he wears when he touches him, but the light is still missing from his eyes. Aoba's stomach twists, and he feels like he's going to be sick. Didn't anyone look for him? How could they get away with this for so long?

He hates them. He always knew he hated them for what they were doing to him, but it was a more muted feeling of sickness that hovered in the back of his mind when they touched him, when they kissed him and mocked him by treating him tenderly. Now it was coming to the surface as white-hot resentment, and before he knows it he's clenching his hand into a fist and throwing it haphazardly at Virus's face. The lenses of Virus's glasses shatter against his knuckles, and Aoba pulls his hand back with a gasp. His hand is cut and bleeding, and there's little chips of glass stuck in his open wounds. He looks and Virus and grits his teeth; his nose is bleeding and there's a bruise forming beneath his right eye. He's still smiling.

Aoba grits his teeth; it was always like this. He would try and hurt them, and they would hurt him more. He doesn't have the strength for this anymore. He looks at the back of his own bloodied hand, and notices that Trip is staring at him from over the top of his own hand.

" I told you..." Aoba starts, but he stops suddenly. Trip was always strong; Aoba can still remember the roughness of his grip as his thighs were forced apart, the bruising grasp of Trip's hands around his wrists pinning him and keeping him still as Virus pressed into him. 

Now that strength was as good as his own, and he swallows against the lump forming in his throat.

"Trip."

Trip grins. "Yeah, Aoba?"

Aoba bites his lip and feels the ache of the bruise from where Virus bit him that morning. Whatever sympathy and hesitation he may have felt fades away, and he shuts his eyes.

"Hurt Virus."

Aoba hears a sickening crunch and opens his eyes; Trip has pushed Virus up against the wall and punched him in the stomach. Virus's broken glasses fall off his face and he gags on his own spit, and Aoba shakes his head.

"No, stop."

"But you asked him to do it, Aoba-san," Virus says. There's blood running from the corners of his mouth now, but he's still smiling. 

"N-not like that," Aoba says. His voice is shaking. 

Trip frowns a little. "You have to tell me, Aoba. Do you want me to hurt him?"

Trip yanks on Virus's tie and Virus chokes, face rapidly going red. 

"Stop!" Aoba shouts, and Trip does so, loosening and smoothing Virus's tie back down against his bloodstained shirt with a tenderness that Aoba has never seen them use for him. He grits his teeth and glares, steeling his resolve.

"Hurt him... like how you hurt me."

Trip throws Virus onto the bed, and Aoba has to scramble to get out of the way. He doesn't want them to touch him. No, they had to do this to each other. He tries not to think about the fact that Trip's understanding and enthusiasm of his order means they know exactly what he means. They knew they were hurting him, and they still did it. The thought makes him feel sick. _He'd trusted them._

Trip rips Virus's shirt open and bites his neck, leaving behind a deep red imprint of his teeth when he moves away. Virus groans and arches his hips up against Trip's body when Trip's fingers brush across his nipples. Aoba narrows his eyes and watches; the pleasured flush on Virus's face grows as Trip works his pants open and begins stroking over his cock. Virus moans and presses his dick against the pressure of Trip's palm. He's already half-hard, and he's smiling in a way that makes Aoba wish he'd told Trip to hurt Virus more. 

They'd known they'd hurt. How the hell could they act like they were _enjoying_ this?

Aoba feels the corners of his eyes prickle with tears. "Virus."

"Yes, Aoba-san?" Virus replies. His precome's already spread slick across Trip's hand.

"Don't act like you enjoy this," Aoba says through clenched teeth. _You don't deserve it. Neither of you do._

There's a pause, as if all three of them are holding their breath at once and the entire world is still. And then Virus is struggling against Trip's touch, so violently that he's tearing his shirt and scratching against his chest like a wild animal fighting for its life. Trip is shaking, and he gasps when Virus's nails claws over his bare skin, breaking it open and leaving strings of raised red scars in their wake.

"No," Virus gasps, spit running down his chin. _"No!"_

"Virus," Trip breathes. He's so pale that Aoba fears he might actually be sick, but he can't feel sympathy for him. "Virus, I'm sorry."

Trip lets go of Virus's cock, forces his legs apart and presses his slick fingers inside him. Virus winces, and Aoba watches on. He still feels like crying. One of the few things that had kept him sane while they were treating him this way had been the feeling that he was holding onto himself, staying who he was despite the ways they tried to break him. 

Now he's no better than they are. The fact that he doesn't care anymore merely confirms that they've pushed him beyond help. 

And so Aoba watches as Virus struggles and cries out, as Trip fucks him roughly against the bed that had been his entire world for the past year and a half, and lets the tears run down his face unchecked. It doesn't take Trip long to come, and he's thankful for it. Trip and Virus part quickly and quickly clean themselves off. Aoba can see the streaks of red and white down the inside of Virus's thigh as he uses the bed sheets to wipe himself. 

Aoba is silent for a long time afterwards, and he realises just in time that he's let his concentration lapse; he sees Trip move of his own free will out of the corner of his eye. He's reaching for Virus, and Aoba feels bile rise in his throat at the sight.

_"Stop."_

Trip obeys, and Aoba breathes a sigh of relief, eyes wide with fear. He still feels sick, but that one small lapse in concentration makes him realise how sensitive the situation is. He can't waste his time; if he wants to escape, he'll have to do it now. 

He takes a deep, steadying breath. "Get dressed."

Virus and Trip do so immediately, and Aoba feels like he can relax again now that the marks they left on each other are disappearing beneath their clothes. Once they're done, they looked at him for their next instruction. They're smiling again, as if nothing happened between them just minutes before. Aoba doesn't know whether he likes this better than what he expected or not; he almost _wants_ them to hate him in the same way he hates them, for them to feel that bitterness burn into everything they are.

"Get me something to wear."

"Follow us, Aoba-san," Virus says with a broad smile. His eye is well and truly bruised now; it's the only mark Aoba can still see on either of them. They walk out of the room and Aoba follows, taking the stained, bloodied sheet from the bed with him to wrap around himself. He doesn't let Virus and Trip out of his sight -- he can't risk them fighting his control again -- and they eventually take him to a locked cupboard at the back of their base. From there, they retrieve the clothes that he'd been wearing on the day they'd stolen him away. 

Aoba doesn't even know why they still have them, but he's glad when they hand them to him. It's familiar, comforting, and Aoba's hands are shaking as he clothed himself for the first time since they'd captured him. Virus and Trip are watching and smiling like they're happy that he's finally outsmarting them and escaping, but Aoba ignores them until he needs them. It's what they'd always done to him, so he sees no need to treat them like they deserve better.

When he feels ready, Aoba stands and looks at Virus and Trip. 

"Let me out of here. I'm going back to Grandma."

Virus's face falls. "Aoba-san, Midorijima has changed. Toue..."

"I don't care," Aoba hisses. They can't pretend that they care about what happens to him now, not after what they put him through. _"Let me go home."_

"... if that's what you want, Aoba," Trip says, and he sounds hesitant despite being Scrapped. 

Aoba sighs and realises he feels sick with relief. He stays silent as they lead him to the exit of the base, and as Trip opens the heavy exit door, Virus reaches out to place his hand on Aoba's shoulder.

Aoba shudders and tries to shake him off, but Virus's grip is strong.

"Goodbye, Aoba-san."

Trip stands aside to let Aoba through the door. "Bye-bye, Aoba."

"Come visit us again sometime," Virus says with a grin, eyes still unfocused. "We're your fans, after all."

Aoba thinks he's going to be sick, so he steps through the door and slams it shut behind him before they can speak to him or touch him again.

Even if the world had changed, even if he died... anywhere is better than being with them forever.


End file.
